


Humming Tunes That We Can't Get Through

by CaptainLeBubbles



Series: Ineffable Bureaucracy to the tune of Set It Off [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angel Wings, Other, Wing Grooming, how to tell your sibling you're fucking a demon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 23:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20455067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainLeBubbles/pseuds/CaptainLeBubbles
Summary: Gabriel pines, and Michael takes matters into hand.





	Humming Tunes That We Can't Get Through

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't thought about this verse in over a week but I spend one commute listening to Set It Off and suddenly have a hundred more ideas.

Gabriel does his best to go back to the way things were, but it’s  _ hard, _ without Beelzebub, and as time drifts by, he finds himself struggling more and more to focus on his work- already difficult after the disaster that was the Apocalypse.

It isn’t a stretch to imagine someone might notice. Michael approaches him after a meeting, and after a few soft, gentle words, coaxes him down to his little flat, where he feels comfortable enough to spill everything.

“For the past— well— since Armageddon didn’t happen, really, I’ve been… conducting an affair. With Beelzebub.”

This last is said in a very small voice, awaiting judgment, but Michael merely nods and, when he doesn’t offer any more, says, “Yes?”

“Beelzebub. Lord Beelzebub? Prince of Hell, Lord of the Flies? Satan’s right hand demon?”

“I am aware of the person you’re speaking of,” Michael says. “I wasn’t aware that you thought I didn’t know about your affair.”

“Hrmngh?”

“You haven’t exactly been subtle,” Michael explains. “Subterfuge was never your strong point— anyway, you haven’t really made any attempt to disguise the obvious love you feel. It radiates off of you, and spikes when you speak of the demon.”

“There’s the rub, really,” he says very quietly, staring down at the floor rather than his sibling. “I love her. I really do; I didn’t think it was possible, but this— this affair wasn’t merely of a sexual nature.”

“Of course it wasn’t. You’re an angel, an  _ Archangel, _ you couldn’t do anything without it being of love.” A gentle hand lands on his shoulder, rubs down to his back before coaxing his wings free. “Gabriel, you aren’t the first angel to fall in love with a demon.”

“You saw what happened last time.”

“Yes, as did you. If Aziraphale is allowed his love, why shouldn’t the rest of us, if we so choose?”

Michael nudges and tugs him over until they’re sitting together at the end of his bed, Michael’s hands in his wings, carefully tending to the feathers while he becomes more and more relaxed under the soothing ministrations. He sighs softly, pleasantly.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” he says. “Beelzebub broke things off. I don’t know why- I thought- I  _ tried _ not to push, or ask for anything she wasn’t ready for, I tried to, to let her set the pace and she still… She just stopped coming to our meetings! She wouldn’t even tell me what I did wrong!” He buries his face in his hands and then falls back with a frustrated groan, landing with his head on Michael’s shoulder. “I don’t know what to  _ do.” _

“I suppose keep giving her space,” Michael says, and turns to stroking his hair instead, using the same feather-light touches that were so recently grooming his wings. “Perhaps she’ll approach you on her own.”

“Maybe…” He sighs, more morose this time, and turns into the touch, settling into the embrace and soaking up the tenderness he hasn’t been offered in so long. “That feels nice. We don’t do enough touching in heaven.”

“No, I don’t think we do.”

-/-

Michael waits until the two have parted ways to make the call. It takes nearly a dozen rings before the other end answers, and Dagon’s voice comes over the speaker.

“What do you want, wank-wings?”

“Let me speak to Beelzebub,” comes the reply, with no room for argument.

“What’s in it for me?” Dagon asks, and Michael can hear the smug grin all the way from here.

“Let me speak to Beelzebub over the phone and what’s in it for you is that I won’t come speak to Beelzebub in person.”

“All right, all right.” There is shuffling and the sound of a chair scraping across concrete (like nails on a chalkboard: Michael winces, and assumes this was intentional). Dagon adds, conversationally, “You’re no fun, I like the other Archangel better. Lord Beelzebub, phone for you. It’s one of the Archangels you’re not fucking.”

“So any of them,” Beelzebub buzzes, and accepts the phone. “What do you want, wank-wings?”

Michael doesn’t waste any time. “He’ll never correct what he did wrong if you don’t tell him what it was.”

“I don’t remember azzking for your opinion.”

“Call it a freebie then. Talk to him. Give him  _ some _ resolution, you owe him that much.”

“I don’t owe him jack  _ fucking _ zhit.”

“Then consider it this way instead: either give him some form of resolution, or I will remind you what an avenging angel truly looks like. Good day.”

And hangs up. There is a moment of satisfaction over the small victory, followed by a frown. Michael isn’t sure that was really going to be helpful- perhaps calling without a plan hadn’t been the best idea, but that brief exchange between the demons had…

Well, what’s done is done. Either Beelzebub will give Gabriel a chance to correct his mistake, or will resolve their relationship on a firm note of finality instead of ghosting him. Either way, with luck, things will start to go better for Gabriel soon.

**Author's Note:**

> I sort of have this idea that post Nahmageddon the structures in heaven and hell slowing begin to break down, starting with the Archangels and Princes.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @grifalinas for this verse and more!


End file.
